Halloween: The Progeny
by Tara Laurel
Summary: Charlie never took life seriously. Now, people are going to find out why. Although she never saw Michael Meyers, her great uncle, has a strange knowledge of his history. Is she his next target, or even something more disturbing? Death. Vulgarity. R&R!


**A/N: This takes place after H20. It sort of twists/ignores H8, we will see...Not that H8 was bad, it just didn't work perfectly with my idea. Sorry. **

**16 year old Charlie (named after John's best friend who was killed. I know Molly's best friend was Sarah but I like the name Charlie better sorry) never takes life too seriously. Now, those around her may finally learn why. Although having never come face to face with Michael Meyers, she has advanced knowledge of his history from talks with her now deceased grandmother, research, and possibly through something far more dangerous. Plagued with nightmares and emotions she is unable to control, Charlie runs away, fearing for her parents' safety, sure Michael is soon to come after her. Alone and ready to face her possible death, she realizes that it is not just her life that he is after. **

**Note - the first bit is exposition, so stay with me! the killings, suspense, mysteries, etc etc begin SOON. **

**Characters:**

**Charlie - granddaughter of Laurie Strode**

**John - son of Laurie Strode, father of Charlie**

**Molly - wife of John, mother of Laurie, was girlfriend of John and survived with him in H20**

**CHAPTER ONE: DEFINITION OF A HERO**

For me, life isn't like a box of chocolates, yeah you never know what you are going to get, but chocolate is chocolate. Even if you get one with peanuts and you're allergic, you can easily and quickly resolve the issue. My mother never told me what life is like, but I got the gist of it myself. To me, life is like a minefield. You set off a couple bombs before you learn your lesson. So, you're more careful, more aware, and just when you think you are in the clear, boom, you step on another. Some of life's mine's will knock you flat on your ass, and others, well others just might kill you. My first bomb was my grandmother. She was the start of all the others. Like the beginning domino, that primary flick of a finger against the black and white dotted plastic. Her domino fell, and fell hard.

She was the survivor. She had survived, him. Time and time again she miraculously managed to escape with her life. Countless others weren't as lucky. My grandmother was the strongest, most brave woman I had ever met, even if the rest of society failed to see it.

She had done what nobody else could do. She killed him. She _killed _him. She saved not only her son's, my father's life, but also the lives of my mother and many others. Still, she was locked up for it. A vigilante for taking the law into her own hands with an axe. A basket case for believing this man, no, this thing that had butchered those she loved was pure evil and therefore was unkillable. Unstable because she had gone to such lengths as to fake her own death and illegally change her name. A criminal for running a prestigious school under a false identity. An unfit mother for putting her son through everything she went through. The list goes on and on. I hate even writing those untruthful words down. My grandmother was a hero.

The bomb exploded two months ago when she passed away. I was and am sad. But also, I am happy knowing she is finally at peace and that it was the hands of age that took her life and not the hands of her brother.

"Charlie, you know you can't write that."

"I just did. And pretty damn well if you ask me."

"Hey. Watch that tongue of yours."

"Oh, come on, dad, you say it enough, and worse things too like sh-"

"That's enough, young lady" Charlie's mother stepped into the conversation with brute motherly force.

"Whatever. I like what I wrote."

"I know you do," her father sighed, "it's just, I don't think that it is appropriate for a high school English paper."

"The assignment is on your hero. Sorry dad, I know you got stabbed in the leg and all saving mom and are forever cursed with an old man limp in the morning, but you just don't cut it."

"Very funny."

"Either way, it's not just for English class. It's going to be the opening for my first published novel. It is the book that will make me millions. The same millions that are going to be paying your senior care center bills pretty soon."

"I'll believe that when I see it," her mother chimed in, "you rarely finish reading books, let alone writing them."

"You guys wait and see. I am going to be rich and famous and you will be sorry you ever mocked my glorious talent."

"I'm sure," she laughed and picked up her daughters essay draft. "'My first bomb was my grandmother. She was the start of all the others.' What does that mean? The first bomb, the start?"

"Um, nothing. I should get ready for school."

"Wow," her father retorted, "I never thought I would hear those words from your mouth. But, you're right. You're going to be late, _again_."

Charlie clutched her masterpiece in her hand and sluggishly made her way out of the kitchen and upstairs.

"Ugh. 'Young lady?' I told myself I would never call my daughter that."

"What about me? No swearing? I told my mother off a time or two with a few choice words when I was her age."

"When did you turn into uncool stiffs for parents?"

"When did we turn into parents?" He paused and a sly grin shaped itself across his lips. "Oh yeah, our honeymoon. I remember now. You had that sexy ass little outfit."

"John! You want Charlie to stop swearing, then you should too."

"I'm not thinking about her right now. I'm thinking about you, me, upstairs. You can bring out that outfit again."

He pulled her tight up against his now warm body and caressed her head in his hands. She allowed herself a small and flirtatious giggle as he leaned in, whispering an almost undeniable preposition into her ear. His hands curved sensually against the small of her slender back and he let his fingers search the area every so carefully, casually but purposefully finding the curves of her butt. She let one last laugh pass her pouting lips before pushing away from her husband.

"I can't."

"Yes you can. It's very simple. You, me, walk, stairs, bedroom, naked –"

"No, I can't." She fought through laughter. "I have to get to work. If I'm late, the students will probably all throw a party and leave before five minutes into class."

"Ah, let 'em. We did that shit in school."

"Yeah, skipping class and smoking pot. We were the coolest." Her sarcasm cut through John's advances and he simply sighed. "Besides, you would probably have a stroke if you found out Charlie was doing that crap."

"Stroke, huh? We really are getting old. Damn."

"I heard that!" Charlie piped in as she entered the room. "Speaking of which, _damn_, PDA much? Hello, teenage daughter in the room. Disgusting. I am ashamed that I leave the room for five minutes and you two can't control your sex drives."

"Teenage daughter, huh?" John scoffed. "What about all that, 'I'm basically an adult' B.S. you spout?"

"Ha! B.S. is still swearing dad. Remember, no matter how much you try to clean it up, it's still bull shit."

"Where did you get such a smartass mouth from?"

"Who else? You! Well, I'm off to the prison you people call school. Come for my release after the seven hour sentence."

"I thought I was taking you today," her mother questioned, "like I always do."

"Sorry mom. But ever since you subbed for health and gave us the sex talk, I really don't need to give kids more of a reason besides our psychotic family history to torture me. Emma's picking me up."

"Emma. Emma Sanders? The girl who I've sent to the office three times this month in three different classes?"

"Oh, please. Like you didn't get into any trouble at your perfect rich school. Now, if certain parents were to let their certain daughter, maybe, I don't know, get a car, this wouldn't be an issue."

"Keep it up and you'll be taking the bus until you're sixty. I will make sure you're still in high school."

"Whatever."

And that was her goodbye as the sound of a car horn put an end to the argument and she rushed off.

"She's right, you know." Her mother groaned. "We're hypocrites. We're horrible parents. Two decades ago, that was us."

"No. There's one difference."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"She doesn't smoke pot."

"Haha, very funny."

"And there's another. Our daughter will never have to go through what we went through, what my mom went through. She's going to live a long, rebellious, teenage life"

"Of two more years, Miss 'I'm an adult at almost 17'."

"I sure hope so. When did you get to be so smart?"

"When I married you."

"Aww. Uh huh. Gag moment."

They both laughed.

"Speaking of all that, John, how are you holding up?"

"You know I don't want to talk about that. I'm fine."

"I know. It's just, you never do. You pretend it doesn't bother you like with Charlie's essay. It does. I know you better than anyone else, John, and you are _not_ fine."

"Just drop it!"

"I'm sorry. I – I should get to school"

There was a solid tension that suddenly lined the room. Molly shot John a sympathetic gaze, receiving a mere turned head as a response. Sighing and biting her tongue, Molly walked quickly out the door, her pumps echoing off the tension stained walls.


End file.
